Divergence
by Kay Hau
Summary: Spinoff of AmTT. Husky was rescued from the collector by the Teen Titans, but kidnapped again a few months later. And this time they didn't find him. Takes place two years later. Cooro has been forced to attend Gotham Academy, where he meets the most popular kid in school... a boy named Harley. Who has incredible eyes, a husky voice, and can't remember past two years ago.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Notes: This is a spinoff story based on similar events as +AmTT (Plus Anima meets Teen Titans) but taking a decidedly different direction. In this slightly darker story, Husky is rescued from the collector by the Teen Titans, and the four +anima spend a very happy several months under the tutelage of the Teen Titans, while the Justice League researches their dilemma and decides what to do with them. But before a decision is reached, Husky is kidnapped by a researcher who had discovered the collector's research documents and is kidnapped and quickly medically brainwashed. This story takes place two years after the kidnapping. No traces were ever found of Husky, despite everyone's best efforts._

_Special thanks to __0m3ga's Z3r0__, who inspired the initial idea. This was originally meant to be a sequel to +AmTT, but that just wasn't working out with the direction I wish to go in with that story. The idea was too good to let go of, however, and thus this new story._

_Beta-read by __Moofy-Fan__. _

* * *

Harley was beautiful, even for a guy. No pair of eyes didn't follow the perfect lithe figure of the fifteen year old as he walked (and sometime stalked) down the hallways of the elite Gotham Academy.

No girl didn't sigh at the waist-length silky blond hair, tied back in a low ponytail in a futile attempt at masculinity. No guy could tear his eyes from those enormous light blue catlike eyes in that perfectly shaped face. When he flipped and practically danced his way through gym, with an unheard of acrobatic ability, even the teacher was caught staring.

Of course, Harley's personality was anything but feminine – though many of the children of Gotham's elite found the boy's fits of anger absolutely adorable, and the child was never without some pretty girl on his arm (to his disgust) and a guy 'friend' tailing behind him and making teasing comments.

Life had been much the same since Harley's recovery from his accident and his enrollment in Gotham Academy. The only real difference was he finally was catching up with schoolwork – his accident had put him really behind. He hadn't been able to remember any history or literature at all, and it was like he'd never even been taught the basics of science – though his math and English skills were uncommonly good and attested to his once-ability to be a straight-A student, as his student records attested to.

That was until the new kid arrived. A weirdo with the strangest name.

Cooro.

* * *

"And Cooro – you're going to attend Gotham Academy as a sophomore, starting next week."

Nana, Senri, and Cooro just stared at Robin with enormous eyes.

"Why is…?" began Nana doubtfully.

"Nana will join you in three months – there are no more openings for girls at the moment. Senri will move to Gotham along with the rest of you. You will enjoy a hospitable reception by Bruce Wayne of Wayne Enterprises, a top funder of the Justice League of America. He has direct contact to the Justice League if you should need it, and plenty of room in his mansion for the three of you. He even has an adopted son for you guys to play with, a kid around your age named Tim Drake."

"Are you…?" Nana started again, mumbling in uncertainty.

"Giving up?" finished Senri, frowning.

Robin, who was planning on ditching the name for Nightwing, sighed and leaned back in his chair. "It's time for you guys to move on. Besides, you may find something of interest in Gotham. It is one of the most exciting cities in America. You've been in this world for going on three years now, and you've never stepped foot out of Jump City."

Cooro's hands fisted at his side. The black crow wings of his anima, which he'd taken to just leaving out lately as he sulked around Titans Tower, arched angrily.

"We are not quitting!" he shouted. "We'll never quit looking for Husky! We know he's here somewhere, no matter what you or anyone else says!"

Nana and Senri's faces firmed and they nodded in agreement.

"Then maybe you'll have better luck in Gotham," said Robin decisively, waving a hand and turning on his foot.

* * *

"Maybe that was a little harsh?" confided Nana to Cooro later. "We know how close Robin and Husky were in those few months. And Robin seems to have taken it personally that Husky disappeared right in his city, practically under all of our noses."

It was true, and a slight surprise to all of them once they'd finally gotten Husky back for that oh so short amount of time all those years ago. Robin had even taken to continuing the boy's study in staff fighting, something he had already been almost inhumanly good at. Everything seemed like it was going to actually work out for once, and it was clear that the titans had been nearly as distraught as the children when that peace was ripped out from under them.

The two were sitting beside each other on a jet belonging to Wayne Enterprises, on their way to Gotham to settle in. Senri slept peacefully across from them.

Cooro stared out the window, and for a minute Nana wondered whether he had heard her.

"I can't get over it," said Cooro. "My best friend. My first real friend, before we met you and Senri. He's in this strange world, same as we are, and has been all alone for years now. I know he's out there, even if I can't really feel him anymore – I _know _he's here somewhere."

Nana smiled a bit sadly. "I do too, Cooro. And we will find him. Someday. But maybe it is time to try something new? Husky was never the sort of person to be content just _waiting_."

Cooro finally looked at her. Both smiled, despite the deep sadness in their eyes.

"We will find him, Cooro. We will," said Nana, her eyes and voice strong and firm.

* * *

And thus Cooro found himself in a stiff blue school uniform, his unruly hair combed back as best possible, backpack slung over a shoulder, and standing in front of a classroom full of bored looking rich kids. He shuffled uncomfortably as the teacher introduced him, feeling awkward for perhaps the first time in his life, and only looked up when the teacher pointed to an empty chair near the middle of the class for him to sit in.

It was so weird, not having his friends nearby. A slightly scared part of him remembered the time he wandered around before meeting Husky. All alone, trying to make friends but getting chased off and screamed at. Weird how some things are more scary in hindsight – at the time he'd just figured that's the way people were and was fine with it.

He set his backpack on the ground and got out a notebook and began to doodle. He wouldn't get his books until after school that day anyway, so what was the point of paying attention? The Teen Titans had given him a basic education, and while he'd never be a good student, he'd scrape by. As Beastboy had whispered to him, C's were still passing.

"Do you intend to play all hour?" hissed a freakishly familiar voice, and Cooro nearly fell out of his chair as his head whipped around to stare at the boy sitting next to him.

"I'll share my book with you, so scoot your desk closer," practically ordered the blond-haired boy.

It couldn't be. There was flat out no way. He didn't feel Husky's anima, for one thing. And Husky had _silver _hair, not golden blond!

The boy was quickly getting annoyed with the dark-haired brat sitting next to him. Totally the type of kid to play all day and never work. The teacher wasn't paying attention, so he turned his head quickly to glare at the boy.

Those eyes were unmistakable.

"Stop messing around, Cooro! We're here to work!" he hissed.

But the other boy's mind had already stopped trying to process what he was saying.

"HUSKY!" screamed Cooro, launching himself at the beautiful, blond haired boy.

* * *

The class and teacher stared in shock at the cry and the two figures crashing together and falling to the floor, in a nasty mix of desks and chairs, scattered papers and books.

Harley blushed a bright red as he struggled to free himself from the tangle and the strange boy's arms.

"My name's Harley, you idiot! Now get off!" he shouted.

The boy's smile dropped in horror, and for some reason his eyes dropped to Harley's exposed neck.

No markings of any sort.

And he couldn't feel an anima.

"You… lost it?" he whimpered.

"What the heck do you…"

"You… don't remember?" continued the new kid, on the verge of tears.

By now other hands were grabbing at the two, pulling them apart and helping to right Harley's desk and gather his things.

"Husky, it's me!" he protested. "Cooro! We're best friends! We went on all our adventures together! We…"

"For the last time!" shouted Harley angrily. "My name is not Husky! My name is Harley, and I've never met you before in my life!"

Just what in the _world _was wrong with this kid? He looked like he was about to cry, but at the same time desperately trying to keep himself from attempting to jump at the blond haired boy once again. Nothing he was saying made any sense either!

And then Harley was struck with an incredible migraine.

"Mrs. Teche? May I be excused?" he asked politely, pressing a palm against the back of his head as he grimaced. "My head hurts..."

"Of course, Harley. Cooro – please be seated already!"

And Cooro watched in horror as the boy, who wasn't but _had to be _Husky, walked right on out.

He wanted to run after him. Nothing was really stopping him. He should whip out his wings and just fly after that boy with long golden hair and Husky's eyes and voice. Scream at him until he listened. Beg him to come home with them.

But what if it really wasn't Husky?

_"My name is not Husky! My name is Harley, and I've never met you before in my life!"_

Cooro hid his head with his arms as he returned to doodling, hoping no one noticed that he was desperately trying not to cry.

* * *

Harley's headache was growing worse as he made his way to the nurse's office, only stopping to return his books to his locker.

_"Husky, it's me! Cooro!"_

He growled to himself as he rested his forehead against his locker, flickers of the new weird boy whipping through his mind in a hopeless spiral.

_"We're best friends! We went on all our adventures together! We…"_

Why did his injury have to act up now? It made him look weak. Having to leave in front of the whole class like that… pathetic.

Lame.

_"…best friends!"_

He'd never seen such an idiot in his life!

… Not that he remember most of his life. But his uncle had told him all about it! And her certainly hadn't mentioned anyone with a weird name like Cooro, or going on adventures, or anything of the sort.

He walked towards the nurse's office, trying to shake that boy and the strange things he said from his mind. It wasn't possible. Surely it wasn't.

_"Husky!"_

Because his name wasn't Husky. It was Harley. Harley McLavain.

The nurse had probably gotten a call from his homeroom teacher, because she was waiting in the hall for him, a concerned look in her brown eyes.

"The migraines, Harley? I thought you'd recovered…?"

"I'm sorry for the trouble, Ms. Larns. Do you still have any of my medication?"

"Of course, Harley. I'd best call your uncle as well. He said to alert him to any changes in your health. He'll probably recommend you leave early."

"Damn…" whispered the golden-haired boy weakly. The nurse didn't bother correcting his inappropriate language – not when she knew how proud the beautiful teenager was.

She distinctly remembered the first time his uncle had brought him to Gotham Academy and explained his issues. The traumatic loss of his parents, resulting in his memory loss. Having to be on medication for so long to combat depression, on top of all the medication to help recover from his own extensive injuries from the accident.

Through the whole explanation, the boy had remained silent and sullen, only to blow up in fury the second his uncle was out of the room. Insisting he didn't really need the medication, that he was perfectly fine all on his own! Only to come back in, head hung low, that very afternoon, escorted by a teacher who'd found him hiding in the restroom crying because his head hurt so badly.

She'd been kind and patient, not remarking on the incident at all. In return, the boy had been much more willing to return to her office when he was in pain.

Ms. Larns unlocked the cabinet where the drugs were kept, taking down the prescription with the name Harley McLavain on the side. She poured two small white tablets into her palm and handed them to the teenager who had already gotten himself a glass of water. He swallowed them right down, then lay down on the bed to wait for his head to stop pounding and swimming.

While the boy rested, she lifted the phone in her office, checked a number against a list of emergency contacts, and dialed Yuri McLavain, the boy's uncle and guardian.

* * *

_Author's Notes: In case you didn't catch on, yes, Harley = Husky. Whether or not he's lost his anima, why you'll just have to read on and find out, now won't you?_

_Please note this story probably will not have regular updates, as my main focus will be on __Plus Anima Meets Teen Titans__, rather than this spinoff. Thanks for reading, and as always, please review! _


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Notes: Beta-read by Moofy-Fan. Hope you enjoy, and please review!  
_

* * *

Best friends. Black wings. Silver scales. A high-pitched, vibrating scream. A book filled with pressed flowers.

Harley groaned, tossing on the cot in the nurse's office and grabbing his head.

An endless desert of rolling sand dunes. A deep blue ocean, filled with hidden dangers and secret treasures. Dozens of queens and royal children, filling a lush garden connected to a huge castle. A clear pond in the center, too perfect to be anything natural.

Drowning. Sinking into an endless pit, being dragged down, too heavy to move more than a single arm, reaching desperately for the blue sky so far away... A foggy blackness, a screaming pain, threat and intrigue and danger and panic…

While the medication helped with the pain and helped to clear his mind in the long run, it sometimes gave him the craziest daydreams. Enough to make him think he was probably crazy, but at least sane enough to keep that a secret from his classmates.

It was nothing new. In his psychiatric sessions with his uncle, they'd often discuss these subconscious visions and if they meant anything. It was incredibly embarrassing at first, but Harley had gotten used to it over the years.

Fur. Claws. Apples. Fish. Forests. Mountains. Adventure.

Running away.

Drowning.

All alone.

Harley felt the familiar panic coming over him. _Not now,_ he ordered himself, as he felt his heart begin racing.

Not now. Not now. Not now.

His breathing was getting ragged and he curled up tight in on himself. Trying to force himself to calm down and failing miserably.

Can't face it. Shouldn't happen. Leave me alone! No, stop! Not happening! It… I…

Can't breathe!

No! Stop!

Harley curled up even tighter, trying to shield his throat from the enemy he knew was only in his mind.

He never understood why, in his darkest panic attacks, it was always the same. Not a car crash killing his family, as he thought made more sense – as that's what had actually happened. But a woman. A tall, beautiful red-haired woman dressed like a queen… strangling him.

It didn't make sense, but he could swear he felt those long, elegant hands wrapping around his neck, cutting off his air supply. Could feel his feet lifting off the ground as she easily raised him up. He could even see those piercing eyes glaring at him, full of hatred and disgust.

Then crashing into water… pain as his already air deprivedlungs filled with the liquid… then…

Then he was free. Or rather, he knew how to be free. Free of the darkness, the pain, the terrifying woman who tried to kill him.

Water! An escape! Swim! Live!

He knew it was an obsession. Borderline maniacal. Especially with his strange dreams about drowning. Why?

Why, when he was in his deepest nonsensical frights, did he instinctively, and completely senselessly, want to run to _water_?

It terrified his uncle, to the point Harley wasn't allowed anywhere near pools or lakes, let alone the sea. Harley didn't know how many times his uncle had hugged him tight, begging him not to go near water, for fear he really would drown himself without thinking. He didn't even know how to swim. He'd never been taught before the accident , and between the state he was in afterwards and his new obsession, it was out of the question now.

But still, water represented safety in some deep part of Harley's psyche. He wanted to dive underwater and hide there until the danger was gone, or jump in and swim and swim and swim. The same part of his subconscious that didn't worry about not being able to breathe underwater seemed to think that in the water he was stronger and faster than anyone. That no one would be able to find him. No one could catch him.

It didn't make sense. It wasn't logical. It was psychotic. Insane. Delusional.

To be perfectly blunt, it was just plain stupid. What kind of idiot has nightmares of drowning but yearns to immerse himself in water?

Still, as he lay there, heart racing, soaked in sweat, panting for breath but only getting a fraction of the air he needed, all he wanted to do was climb out of this bed and run to the school pool.

He could picture the whole path in his head with crystal clarity. Climb off the cot, turn to the right, through the door of the nurse's office, another right, down the corridor, straight past two turns, left, down the hall, through the giant double doors to the huge indoor pool that was the pride and joy of Gotham Academy's elite swim team. An Olympic size pool, with a deep end for diving and a shallow end for laps and sports like water polo and synchronized swimming. Of course, it was divided with buoys according to whichever sport was next on the schedule, and the water always sparkled blue between the chlorine and the weekly cleanings.

He knew all of this, despite having never taken a swim class. His uncle had made sure to excuse him, a combination of his condition from the incident and fear of him doing something foolish and never coming back up again. It wasn't that he'd intentionally set out to memorize a path to the pool, but some part of his mind just needed to know the way. So, so stupid.

Harley hated the smell of chlorine that constantly filled the area, but the pull of the expanse of water, the thousands and thousands of gallons of water, was near irresistible. And the more the thought lingered in the boy's mind, the more desirable it became.

His mouth grew dry and he fumbled, half sitting up, for the glass of water on the small bedside table. He chugged the whole glass, but it wasn't nearly enough. There was a pitcher, full to the top, and without thinking too much about it, he grabbed the whole thing and drank and drank. Within minutes, the whole pitcher was gone, but he still felt too dry and it made him edgy.

Pool. Water.

No. No, his uncle had forbidden it. His uncle would be here soon and would take him home, and he could get into his shower and just stand in there until he felt better.

Ocean. Sea. Lake. River. Pool. School pool. Water. Water. Water.

Safety. Freedom.

All he had to do…

"Harley!" barked a deep, strict voice, with a trace of a harsh accent. Russian or something similar.

The beautiful teenager jerked in surprise, eyes jumping into focus and landing on his uncle's concerned face.

When did he…? How long had his uncle been standing there?

Harley realized he was hugging the pitcher to his chest. Probably looked weird, so he frowned and clumsily set it back on the table. Tried to pretend he wasn't still trembling, that the pitcher hadn't rattled at all from his shaking hands.

At least his breathing had eased, though his heart still raced.

Okay, now that the pitcher was gone he shouldn't look as weird… but his hands were still shaking and he didn't know what to do with them. After a couple awkward moments, he fisted them and set them in his lap.

"Water?" asked Uncle Yuri knowingly.

Harley felt himself twitch just at hearing the word. His hands squeezed tighter and he glared at them.

His uncle frowned and, to Harley's surprise and embarrassment, the large man scooped him up like a child and set off.

"Thank you, Ms. Larns. I'll be taking him home for the day. If you could…?"

"Of course, sir."

And by then he was at the door, holding it open, stepping through it.

Thank goodness it was still during class time. The hallways were empty, saving the blond boy the humiliation of anyone possibly seeing him in such a state. His uncle was a fast walker, so in no time at all they were in the parking lot and his uncle was lowering him onto the back seat in a black Mercedes.

Harley's shaking hands fumbled with the seat belt, but his uncle impatiently took the buckle from him and clicked it in. Then he firmly shut the door, walked around the car, and climbed into the driver's seat.

He was mad.

Harley stared at his hands, messing with the part of the belt around his lap.

The slam of the driver's door. The click of his uncle putting on his own seatbelt. The purr of the engine starting, and the slight sound of his uncle putting the car in gear.

They left the academy's parking lot and turned towards home.

Only when they hopped on the freeway did his uncle finally sigh.

"What triggered it?" he asked, almost gently.

"Nothing," grumbled the boy, folding his arms over his chest and staring out the window.

"Did the medication work? Migraine went down?"

"… yeah."

"I don't like that it might have triggered a panic attack. I'll talk to my psychiatrist friend about any alternatives. Any strange images?"

No answer. He just waited.

Harley groaned and glared at hands. "The usual."

"The trigger? It seemed a bit extreme for just a normal episode. You were completely out of it."

"…"

"I'll just find out from your teacher."

"New kid. Weirdo. Said he knew me… Um, knocked me down and I hit my head," he finally gave in and mumbled, not looking up from glaring out the window at the passing scenery.

Harley, from the back seat, didn't notice his uncle's hands tighten on the steering wheel, almost white-knuckled from the pressure.

"I'll take a look at your head when we get home. Could be a concussion." The man's eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, glancing at the boy in the backseat. A fond smile came over his face. "I'll take care of this. Don't worry, Harley. You'll be just fine."

Harley's stiff frame relaxed just a bit. "Thank you, Uncle Yuri."

* * *

Something was wrong with Cooro.

He had been a sulking thing this morning before he left for Gotham Academy, true, but this was different. He looked blank, rejected… confused. He was silent, his face flickering between excitement and joy, to depression and injury.

For the first hour or so, Nana and Senri gave him his space. He'd changed somewhat in the past couple years. The most noticeable being how he now often requested 'alone time to think'. Nana was quite sure he'd stolen the phrase from Husky.

But this time, his 'time alone' didn't seem to be helping. He hadn't gone up to his room, instead opting to sit on a big couch staring at an empty fireplace. It was easy to sense his problem was something he actually did want to talk about… so why didn't he?

And so, after exactly one hour (Nana had been watching the clock), she set down her knitting, grabbed Senri's hand, and marched over to Cooro. She and Senri plopped down on either side of him on the couch.

"What happened?" demanded Nana. Contrary to her strict tone, she took his hand in her own and squeezed comfortingly. Senri did the same on Cooro's other side.

Cooro's still confused eyes turned to Nana, then to Senri, then to their hands in his lap.

"It was… but it wasn't. But it should've been! But if it was, then he…"

And he suddenly started crying.

The hands holding his squeezed tighter, and Senri and Nana scooted closer to comfort him. They waited for him to get a bit of a grip on himself, then he continued on his own.

"I met someone today," he said, half a whisper. "A boy… his name's Harley."

They waited patiently. Willing to accept pretty much anything and help him through it.

"He looks like Husky."

Cooro felt them tense up on either side of him. He took a deep breath, and squeezed their hands back, knowing with this information, they'd be needing as much comfort as him.

"Not the hair," he continued. "But those eyes. And his voice…. But he didn't know me." Cooro voice was shaking now, struggling not to dissolve into tears again.

"There was no anima, and he didn't know me," he whispered, and despite his attempts to keep them at bay,the tears broke through again.

"So… it wasn't him?" wondered Nana, her voice trembling. Trying not to give into hope for fear of being hurt again. Of running into another dead end.

"I couldn't sense him… but it was Husky!" insisted Cooro, emphatically, sitting straight up… only to slouch again seconds later in a sort of defeat. "So why didn't he know me? And his anima…"

"Forgot us?" asked Senri softly, gently.

"Tell us about him. The whole story. As much as you can," insisted Nana. Though it sounded more like begging.

"I didn't notice him at first. Not until I sat down. Nothing in my senses at all. He told me to pay attention and offered to share his book. I looked up, thinking the voice was just like Husky's, and saw those eyes! The hair was wrong – but it was Husky! It had to be!"

"You jumped him?" asked Nana, a small knowing tone in her voice as a slight smile twitching at her lips.

"Yeah, but… he got so angry. Not embarrassed angry, like Husky always was when we hugged him. _Angry_ angry. Started shouting that he had no idea what I was talking about or who I was. And everyone was calling him Harley! And I looked, and there was no marking... and I realized I couldn't sense anything."

Nana looked as confused as Cooro felt. "But Husky would never give up his anima. And surely he wouldn't lose it, right…?"

"Taken?" asked Senri.

"Maybe," thought Nana aloud, shivering at the thought. "He was kidnapped after all. Who knows what happened to him these last two years?" She leaned over, resting against Cooro's shoulder.

They were quiet for several minutes.

"Does it matter?" she murmured. "If it's him… does it matter?"

"No," answered Senri, a smile in his face and his eyes glowing happily.

"If it's really Husky… and it just has to be…" began Cooro. "I think… I think I can live with him not remembering me. Us. Everything we've been through. Because… it means…" he trailed off, but his eyes were shining.

Nana smiled brightly, finally letting the hope win. Even if it meant a crushing blow later.

"He's alive!" she cried out, jumping to her feet and dragging Cooro up with her. "He's alive!"

Letting loose the one fear that'd been plaguing them all, they all started laughing and jumping around. Suddenly exchanging "Do you remember" stories about Husky and making plans on everything they'd have to tell him that he'd missed.

Just outside the door, a surprised, and almost as excited, Tim Drake met the eyes of Wayne's butler, Alfred Pennyworth.

"You tell Bruce!" he said. "I'll let Dick know!" And the old butler and the freshman in high school ran off.

* * *

_Author's Notes: Wow, I was expecting it to take longer before the +anima gang accepted Harley as Husky, but I guess they really do trust that much in Cooro's impressions! Next time, we have Bruce Wayne pull a damper on things (otherwise the gang would rush off to kidnap Husky right now), find a bit more about Husky's 'home life', and maybe things might start heading in a rather dangerous direction…? Hope you enjoyed, even if not much has happened yet, and please review!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Notes: Can I be honest? I absolutely LOVE the 'Husky scene' in this chapter! I hope you guys do to!_

_Beta-read by Moofy-Fan._

* * *

Two years. Two dreadfully, painfully, excruciatingly long years for everyone involved.

And these stupid +Anima brats hadn't learned a thing.

Batman growled to himself as he leaned against the wall outside the room the three were STILL squealing about their friend within. Of course, he was Bruce Wayne right now, so he really shouldn't be quite so terrifying. But he still couldn't get over how stupid children could be, even after three of his own. Well, almost his own. And not that he had the best of luck with any of them… well, Tim was turning out to not hate his guts so far…

"Think we should get him tonight? Or should we wait for tomorrow and grab him at school?"

"Tonight! We can't possibly wait that long! And it can't be that hard to dig up his address, right? Like, all the kids are the children of Gotham bigwigs, so…"

"Sooner the better."

Honestly, after two years living with the Titans, you'd think the brats would have learned the definition of 'kidnapping'. Planning to snatch a kid right out of his own house? Or at least what he thought of as his own house. Even if this kid was their 'Husky', he obviously didn't remember them. And VERY obviously, at least to people with thinking ability, he was not likely to take being kidnapped very well.

He took a deep breath, stood up tall, ran a hand through his hair, and put on the friendly father mask he used to persuade CPS he was not adopting kids just for publicity.

"Hey, guys. What are you all so excited about?" he asked casually, smiling and raising a cup of coffee. "I could hear you all the way from the kitchen!"

"We found our friend!" squealed the girl. "The Titans told you, right? Two years ago our friend Husky got kidnapped? Well we found him! He goes to Gotham Academy and he's in Cooro's class!"

Bruce raised the hand not holding the coffee mug and gestured for her to calm down, chuckling slightly. "That's great, Nana. What did he say when you spoke to him?" he asked. There wasn't any need to let the children know that he'd been eavesdropping, after all.

The absolutely giddiness that had been coming off of the three in waves dipped ever so slightly, replaced with a hint of confusion and determination in Cooro as he started to explain.

"He didn't remember us, but I know it's him! Something must have just happened to him, he even said his name was different, but that's why we need to go get him as soon as possible!"

Bruce nodded, even though he didn't think that their plan was the smartest move in the least.

"Alright, alright. Just what did he say his name was, first?" he asked, hoping to calm the children down and figure out as much as he could about the situation.

"Harley!" shouted Cooro excitedly, his energy starting to pick right back up again.

"Harley? Harley…" Bruce froze for all of one whole second. "Harley McLavain?" he finally said, a hint of apprehension in his voice.

Harley McLavain? Orphaned nephew of Yuri McLavain? That man had enough money and connections to travel in the same circles as Bruce Wayne. Heck, there where actual photos of the two posed together at various parties, functions, and the like in newspapers and magazines. Oh, damn, this could get messy. He (as Bruce Wayne) couldn't just call the police, let alone the Justice League, and accuse Yuri McLavain of having kidnapped a boy that was well-documented as his nephew. Batman might have to step in on this.

"You know him?! That's great! So you can tell us where he lives so we can go get Husky back!"

Bruce stared at his coffee for a second, brows furrowed. The three teens seems to sense something was wrong and their excitement took a noticeable dip. Not that they weren't still bouncing on their toes.

"Something wrong, Mr. Wayne?" asked Nana.

He put a half-smile back on his face, letting his expression show concern. "You might want to slow down a bit, guys. Yuri McLavain is a friend of mine." Inside his head, Batman gagged at the thought, but he couldn't let that show. "Are you absolutely certain? Perhaps it's merely a very strong resemblance. Have you done any research? Have you actually talked to Harley about this?" He chuckled almost nervously. "I don't want my new charges getting arrested on some mistaken kidnapping, you know?"

Their excitement went from dip to nosedive.

"But…" began Cooro, huge brown eyes filling up with tears. "But it's Husky!"

Nana took his hand in her own. She was no longer jumping around, but her eyes shined with confidence and determination. She took a second to think before commenting. "I believe you, Cooro. But Mr. Wayne's right. We can't just take him back. Not as soon as tomorrow anyway. We need proof."

"You're welcome to use my computer for your research," said Bruce Wayne kindly. Just not the Batcomputer, he thought. Alfred will be working on that.

"But…"

"I'm sure you'll see him tomorrow at school," added Bruce. "It would probably be better for him if you tried to talk to him a bit more before throwing something like this at him."

Cooro nodded, looking miserable. Senri patted his head comfortingly, same as he did two years ago when the boy was upset. Nana took his hand. Though her eyes were strangely focused on nothing in particular… and Bruce recognized that look from when Dick was rebelliously planning to do his own thing regardless of what his guardian thought. He'd have to make sure they didn't end up doing anything foolish.

He sighed internally. "Well, goodnight, kids. See you tomorrow."

"Night," they all politely responded.

Bruce waved as he left the room, heading straight for the kitchen to dump the mug in the sink. Tim was waiting.

"Suit up and meet me in the cave."

"So we'll be scouting the McLavain house and doing some digging on whether Yuri's got any underground connections we hadn't noticed before? While Alfred looks up the kid's birth certificate, family history, and medical and school records?"

Bruce gave the brat a sideways glance. "Why do you ask when you already know?" he asked, trying not to let the humor show through.

Tim laughed anyway and ran off, reminding him ever so much of Dick. Before the rebellious stage.

* * *

Yuri McLavain paced his basement lab, almost grabbing at his hair in his anxiety. Damn. Damn. Damn!

How had they traced him? He'd been sure he'd gotten away with it! Who was this damn Cooro brat to interfere with his personal life?! His research?! HIS nephew!

All the work and planning that went into Harley – he'd never be able to recover from it if they took him away! His life's work… he felt like he'd barely started! How can they possibly want to end his research only two years into it!?

It was a master stroke of luck that his beloved sister and her husband and child had all died in the car accident that was more along the lines of 'fireball' than 'crash'. Another stroke of luck that the forensics team had been so disgustingly sloppy, with one exception that was easily bribed off. And it all was made so much easier that he didn't actually live anywhere near or around Jump City, where he'd snatched the beautiful mermaid he'd heard about from the papers, that was now oh so much more, right off the street. Straight to the airport, into his private jet, back home to Gotham.

He couldn't live without Harley. That much was certain. His life now revolved around the boy. Not just his far from complete research on the child, but his daily life. Harley was _his_. As proven by the fact that they boy listened to everything he said, lived in this very house, and heck, the boy even took care of the cooking! (They did have a housecleaner come in twice a week to do the rest of the chores, but no one else. He hated the idea of maids or butlers poking into his research.)

"No," he growled to himself. "I'm jumping to conclusions. They have no proof. They can't possibly take Harley away from me…" He snatched a fat leather-bound book from a table and flipped it open to a beautiful image. A stylized wave, or maybe gills or something, resembling a tattoo. He stared at it fiercely, almost glaring, but with a hint of something extremely, obsessively possessive.

"No one's taking my mermaid away from me," he whispered, snapping the book shut and setting it back on the table.

"Uncle!" shouted down Harley's clear voice, though still with that slight trace of a husky undertone. He never had been able to work out that strange accent. It was just good luck that no one in Gotham's top circles was enough of a linguist to question the difference between his own rough accent and the boy's. "Time for dinner!"

"Coming, Harley!" he shouted back up. His eyes glanced over his cluttered desk before pullingopen the bottom drawer. He rifled through at least two dozen small vials, then pulled one out and slipped it into his coat's pocket.

"No reason to take any chances," he whispered to himself, though he was frowning.

* * *

Husky laid on his bed in his pajamas, staring at a framed photograph of a beautiful young woman.

His mother. It was the only photograph of her left, taken by Uncle Yuri when she was still in high school. All of the other photos had been lost. Uncle Yuri felt dreadful about it, but he admitted to having not even thought about them in the aftermath of the accident. And, with his experiments and research, he wasn't one to have photos lying around. His mother had been the one to hold all the albums, and now… She was gone. Forever.

He didn't look much like his mom. Uncle Yuri said he took after his father, who was uncommonly good looking for a man. But he did share two traits with his passed mother.

His lithe, athletic figure. And his long, blonde hair.

Honestly, he didn't care for his hair's length. It made him look like a girl, from behind anyway. But he'd given up asking his uncle, who would just look at him with sad eyes and make excuses about him looking "So much like Nadia…" And he'd learned from experience that he was terrible with scissors.

Not that he was really supposed to be anywhere near scissors, considering his uncle was scared that his obsessive dreams about water were related to a secret desire to commit suicide. Apparently a common problem with teenagers with PTSD, especially if connected with amnesia. And there was always a chance of depression as a side effect of the drugs.

But his hair's color was identical to the woman in the photograph. She even wore it in a low ponytail similar to his own.

Her eyes were dark blue, just like his uncle's, with light skin, a small, athletic figure, and a bright, bright smile. She looked like an extremely kind, loving person. From Uncle Yuri's stories, she had always been smiling and optimistic and loving. She had absolutely adored Harley from the day she discovered she was pregnant.

Uncle Yuri loved to talk about his baby sister Nadia, Harley's mother. He didn't know much about Harley's father, Kenneth Rodgers, simply because he had been a little upset about someone "stealing away" his baby sister and hadn't yet gotten over that. He hadn't even seen them since Harley's birth, only talking to his sister over the phone a couple times a month.

The first time he'd seen them in twelve years... was to identify their bodies as next of kin. He'd confessed that if it wasn't for Harley, he'd didn't know what he'd have done with himself.

Harley had retorted that his uncle was an idiot for not getting to know them when he had the chance. Uncle Yuri had not denied it. Though he had later given Harley grief during their psychiatric session by insisting Harley was trying to push an internal guilt over not remembering his parents onto his uncle to make himself feel better.

Jerk.

Harley chuckled to himself.

His uncle was so weird. The very definition of an obsessive weirdo researcher scientist of who-knows-what. His lab downstairs was filled with hundreds of books and thousands of printouts of senseless material. There were dozens of charts tacked to the walls, strange machines and tanks and jars lining shelves and stacked on tables, and just so much clutter that it was incredible he even found the doorway out of there! He often lost track of time and had to be summoned by Harley up to dinner, and would've worn the same clothes for weeks on end if Harley didn't insist that he would NOT tolerate the stink.

Very, very weird indeed. That the same man also drove a black Mercedes, owned six tuxedos and twenty suits, and held over sixty million US dollars in various banks around the world. No one would believe him if he told them his suave, sophisticated, obviously wealthy and extremely well-mannered uncle, often seen alongside the likes of Bruce Wayne and the rest of Gotham's elite at various social functions … was a total hobo at home.

Though they did believe that he was a little obsessive about caring for his orphaned nephew, simply because it was so obvious. People said he was even worse than Bruce Wayne, but at least he took in a kid that was actually related to him. Bruce was on his, what, third?

Not that Tim wasn't a nice guy. They spoke a bit at school and parties, but neither was very social so they left it at that. Not like living in the same city and going to the same school meant they had to be best buddies or anything.

School…

Harley lowered the photograph to his chest, now staring at the ceiling. School made him think of that weird boy. Cooro. Why did that boy bother him so much? When he'd finally given in to the buzzing in his head and just asked his uncle if he'd ever known a kid named Cooro, Yuri had responded with a firm no. Which Harley had retorted with a "Well how would you know if you never visited!" To which his uncle had rolled his eyes and said Nadia liked to talk about the who and what her little boy was up to.

He'd had friends named John, Eric, Richard, Andrew, Timothy, Mary, Samantha, Elizabeth… yep, not a weird name like Cooro in sight. Yuri was sure he would've remembered a Cooro.

So why…?

_…best friends…_

Why…?

"Why do I feel closer to him than you…?" he whispered, lifting the photograph and staring in the beautiful woman's eyes.

As soon as he let the scandalous words loose from his mouth, he was overwhelmed with guilt. Guilt that he didn't remember her. Had no idea what her voice sounded like, what type of laugh she had, what her hugs or goodnight kisses had felt like. A wonderful woman, a perfect mother… and a part of him still felt she was a complete stranger. But he couldn't admit that to his uncle. He hated even admitting it to himself in the sanctity of his bedroom.

He stared for a while longer, then set the photograph on his nightstand.

"Sorry, mom. I'll remember someday. I promise." He stroked the edge of the picture frame, smiling sadly, then turned off the lamp and slipped under the covers to get some sleep.

That night he dreamed of a beautiful queen, dressed in white silks, a sapphire circlet on her head. Long, silver hair hung past her thighs, so silver-white it shone blue as it shifted under the sunlight. Huge catlike eyes sparkled, a pretty light blue with the barest hint of lavender, shining with pride and love and joy. Her figure was tall, slender, and majestically graceful.

She knelt before him, pulling him into her arms. She smelled of roses and something unique, something that was just her. Her pale skin and silver hair were softer than even the silks of her clothing. He felt her tears slide down from her face onto his as she pressed him as tight as she could against her.

The tears of a woman who thinks her only child has come back from the dead…

He awoke crying. Filled with an ache and empty loneliness that couldn't possibly ever be filled. He had no idea why. It didn't occur to him that the woman in his dream resembled him far more than the lady in the photograph ever could.

He finally got back to sleep, and dreamed of black wings, silver fish scales, bear claws, and a bat's screams. But those were nothing new.

* * *

_Author's Note:_

_I'm calling what Husky's mom wears a circlet, even though the closest actual term I found was 'necklace chain head ornament'… which just sounds ridiculous. If anyone knows the actual term for that type of jewelry, please let me know in a PM or review? Thanks._

_Hope you guys enjoyed, and feel free to speculate on what Yuri's immediate plans involving a certain vial might be! Also, I'm totally open to ideas and wishes! To be honest, with the plot I have in my head, this might very well be over in just a few more chapters, so actually _please_ review with ideas to help me extend the plot out a bit!_


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